Chief

by Debra Kayn

  "Okay. Thanks for calling." Her chest squeezed, hating the end of their conversations. "I love you."

  "Love you, too. Remember that."

  The call disconnected. She used the back of her hand to dry her cheeks. He sounded down. She knew him well enough to hear past the words he gave her.

  She hated having him in prison. He needed her, and there was nothing she could do.

  "Done?" asked Keeffe.

  "Yeah." She handed back the phone. "Thanks."

  "Not a problem." Keeffe stepped back. "Are you coming back in or staying out here?"

  "I'm going to stay out here for a few minutes, and just...think." She smiled sadly. "Thanks again. For everything. The call was the best present I could get."

  Keeffe dipped his chin and walked back into the clubhouse. Hopeless, she inhaled deeply and blew out her breath. Tonight should've ended differently.

  She should've ridden home on the back of Chief's Harley to their house where they could've celebrated her monumental birthday alone after the party, feeling special and loved. But, she was alone. No amount of tequila or dancing could numb her reality.

  "God, this sucks," she mumbled, holding the small gift to her chest.

  There was never enough time on the phone or privacy to talk deeper than what was happening on the surface. She sniffed. He'd gone out of his way and taken the chance to call her on her birthday, and she'd forgotten to thank him for the present. Walking over to the clubhouse, she leaned against the side of the building and carefully unwrapped the box, putting the ribbon in her pocket to save.

  Every birthday, Chief would get her a piece of jewelry along with a couple of other presents. She'd received her first pair of diamond studded earrings on her sixteenth birthday, which joined the charm bracelet, initial pendant necklace, dangling silver hoops, and birthstone ankle bracelet. When she wasn't wearing them, they went in the jewelry box she received on her twelfth birthday, which replaced the musical ballerina box Chief gave her when she was nine.

  She opened the box. A soft gasp escaped her mouth. Placed on a piece of velvet was a silver tag necklace with the Brikken colors—black, white, blue, and Chief's member number—seventy-eight.

  He'd marked her as his property for everyone to see.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The prison guard walked past Chief on the other side of the Cyclone fence blocking off the hallway leading into Section B. Chief stood with Graham next to the pull-up bars, hoping nobody would notice he hadn't taken his turn on exercising his upper body. He'd fucked up his shoulder putting a beat down on one of the inmates trying to fuck up Graham's release on Monday.

  "I need another phone." He ran his hand down his beard, a habit he'd started over the last three years since he'd stepped behind bars and had no access to a trim.

  Graham's body remained tense. "I'll tell Keeffe."

  Understanding the stress Graham dealt with over the last month trying to stay alive and not get set up to add more time to his sentence, Chief tried to protect his MC brother any way he could. Without Leech, who'd walked out of prison eleven months ago, it was imperative that Graham receive his walking papers.

  Every convict and his bitch tried to fuck up a rival's day of freedom. Fights were common, and contraband planting in the cell happened on a daily basis. Graham needed to stay aware and make sure he and his cage remained clean until he walked through the door.

  "Are you calling your woman after yard?" Chief crossed his arms, taking the weight off his shoulder. "Tell her the good news?"

  Graham exhaled loudly. "DeeDee's gone, man."

  "No shit?"

  Graham shrugged. "Three weeks ago. Told me she'd moved on, found someone new, and wanted to make a decent go of it. Supposedly, she'd been fucking the guy for the last year. She asked me to stop calling."

  "Another Brikken member?" asked Chief.

  "Nah, someone outside the club. Probably met him at the bar she works at. I didn't ask. Didn't care. I've been locked up a long time, man. I don't expect anything when I get out."

  "Brikken will be there." Chief gazed around the yard.

  Life on the outside was tough for those counting the years. Not many people made it out with the person they loved welcoming them home again. He masked his own worries. Over the last year, conversations with Johanna became more routine, and she'd gone back to work at the coffee house despite him telling her he wanted her home and using her energy at the club.

  She'd claimed the days were too long with all the free time and keeping her mind occupied helped her deal with waiting for him to gain his freedom.

  He called bullshit and put two more Brikken members on her ass to see what or who entertained her. All he'd gotten in return was info that she worked and went out with Lindsay and Ashley every Friday and Saturday night. The girls enjoyed dancing at a couple of the clubs in Tacoma.

  So far, Johanna went home alone every night but the thought of someone else giving her conversation, giving her good feelings, rubbing her while dancing, giving her happiness, put him in a bad position.

  If his worries materialized, he wouldn't see daylight. He'd work his rage out on every fucking inmate in Seattle Penitentiary.

  The bell rang, signaling everyone back inside. He walked with Graham across the yard.

  "I probably won't see you before you leave." Chief kept his stride and spoke low. "Don't take any fucking chances. I want you outside, brother. Business is picking up again. The others, they've remained steady. You take your time and then fit in where they need you. Don't get out and do something stupid. Rely on Brikken."

  He stopped in line with the others. Graham held his gaze and dipped his chin. "Watch your back, Chief."

  "Plan on it," he said.

  Once inside, they separated without a word or look. Being the last remaining Brikken member in Seattle Penitentiary filled him with pride for his club. The captain goes down with the ship, or some such bullshit brought satisfaction.

  Almost three hundred members, carrying on business, breathing fresh air, and he was the only one locked up. His sons were free and taking on club responsibilities that if he'd been on the outside, he would've handled himself. He was proud of his boys.

  He turned down the hallway and lined up to make a call. There were three pay phones lined up on the wall. Each prisoner received fifteen minutes per call. If he got in line early, he had a chance to get back in line, wait his hour, and make another call. It seldom worked out, but he always tried. Running a club from inside the prison meant constant contact with his men. Going two or three days between contact brought more problems. He needed another cell phone brought in for him to use. He'd burned through at least eight of them over the last three years.

  Thirty minutes later, he stepped up to the phone. Behind him, fucking Alvarez reached around him and grabbed the receiver before he'd even raised a hand. Not wanting to draw attention from the guard, he said, "Keep your hand there, and I'll stick a fucking knife in your heart when you sleep."

  "You and who else?" said Alvarez. "The way I see it, your motivation is walking out the door on Monday."

  He reached up and covered the man's hand on the phone and squeezed. Alvarez's grunt of pain reached his ears. "I'm going to let go, and you're going to walk off."

  He squeezed hard, feeling a snap, and let go. Sure that Alvarez carried a broken or dislocated finger with him when he walked away, he lifted the phone and made his call.

  He counted the rings, knowing Johanna's cell phone voicemail picked up on the fifth ring. After the fourth, he turned his face toward the wall to hide his anger when a breathless Johanna answered.

  "Busy?" he asked, irritated.

  "I was blow drying my hair." She breathed heavily over the phone. "It's A's birthday tomorrow, so L and I are going to take her out to the club tonight to celebrate."

  "Make sure you call V.P. and have him send someone to escort you home," he said, knowing she'd already be covered, but needing her to think about what she was doing.


  "Mm-hm."

  He waited, and she stayed quiet. "Bug?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Monday, G's coming home. It'd be nice if you planned something later in the week for him with the family."

  "That's right. I almost forgot." Her voice picked up in volume. "I'll do that. I bet he's excited. Did you hear that, um, his woman, left him?"

  "He told me."

  "Such a bummer. I liked her. She used to hit the coffee house a couple times a week. Her daughter, I think she's around fifteen, looks exactly like her. Have you ever met her? Was she living with her mom when you were around or still staying with her dad?"

  He closed his eyes almost able to imagine her putting on makeup in front of the mirror, the phone at her ear, and her mouth open as she put shit on her lashes. "I've met her."

  "Oh. I forgot to tell you last time I talked to you. NN—that NN— has been staying at the club with...shit, I forgot. NN has been staying at the club with S...I don't know his last name. I think it starts with an H. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

  He gritted his teeth, picking up on the clues. Nene was staying at the clubhouse with Skidd. "They're free to be with who they want."

  "I didn't know if that still went for NN." She paused. "She still lives in one of your houses when she's not at the clubhouse."

  "It's her right." He planted his hand on the wall and leaned over the base of the phone, lowering his head for privacy. "Bug, stop for a second and listen to me."

  "Okay."

  "What do I ask you to remember?" he whispered.

  "That you love me."

  He swallowed. "What do you say?"

  "I love you, too."

  The recording picked that moment to break in with the warning that the call would be disconnected in five minutes. He fisted his hand. If he only had five minutes, face to face, he'd make sure Johanna understood how much she meant to him, and that nothing had changed during his incarceration.

  "Are you there?"

  "I'm here." He straightened. "I'm working on making this happen more often. You and me talking. You need to hang tight for a little longer."

  "Okay."

  "Do me a favor and have V.P. transfer whatever is left in G's JPay's account over to mine. I don't want the fucking prison getting the extra," he said.

  "Sure, do you need anything else? I can order some more books for you."

  "Nah, I've been working out more lately." He'd kept news of his injury away from her.

  Silence fell between them. She wasn't only his taste of freedom, but his spring, summer, fall, winter. His fresh air in a world where taking his next breath wasn't guaranteed.

  Greedy for conversation, he said, "Are you taking care of yourself?"

  Biting back the real questions about if she was thinking of him, if she fought her doubts and still believed in them, he gritted his teeth. Sweat coated his back under his rank prison uniform. He needed to know if she still loved him as much as she had before the handcuffs were slapped on his wrists.

  "Between work and dealing with the problems that arise with the women of the...family, I fall into bed each night." She laughed softly. "Only three more months of working at the coffee house and I've earned three days of vacation time. They don't even give me a week for being there a year, which is crazy unfair. Oh, and I don't get to add on the time I worked before I quit. They started counting fresh when they rehired me, so it all kind of sucks."

  A rush of urgency hit him knowing the phone would disconnect, he said, "Be careful tonight, bug."

  Fuck. He worried. Losing herself. Losing him. He couldn't let that happen.

  "I will."

  "Watch how much—"

  The dial tone of the disconnected call filled his ear.

  Son of a bitch. He hung up the dead receiver and walked straight to his cell. There was no use standing in line tonight for another chance at the phone. Johanna would be gone with her girlfriends, and in two days Graham could inform Keeffe of his message.

  He couldn't fucking wait to get out of here.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The crowd crushed in on Johanna at the clubhouse. She pushed through the sea of leather vests, bare skin, and sloshed drinks. By the time she walked out the door, perspiration had dripped down her temples, and she let her head fall back to feel the breeze on her overheated skin.

  Keeffe had changed her plans tonight with Lindsay and Ashley when he'd shown up at the house to give her the burner phone and the instructions that Chief would call her later. Instead of stopping her plans, she'd talked the girls into coming to the clubhouse with her instead of hitting Blue Light, their normal club stop on a Saturday. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and checked the time.

  It was already after midnight, and Chief hadn't called.

  With only four months left of Chief's incarceration, he often missed his chance at the phones to call her. It'd taken six months for one of the Brikken members to get a burner phone into the prison and in Chief's hand. Keeffe informed her that Chief wouldn't take the chance of using the hidden phone in his cell if the guards or other inmates were around. It was too close to release for him to get caught and have extra time put on him his sentence.

  Apparently, the consequences of finding a phone in his cell brought a hefty thirty-nine-month punishment and another felony on his record. As if she needed another worry added to her life, she now dreaded any calls in the chance that he'd get caught.

  Putting the phone in the back pocket of her shorts, she stepped over to lean against the building and stumbled in her high heels. She laughed at herself. What a klutz.

  Sammi had mixed margaritas for the women and consuming three of the drinks hit her hard. Brikken never served watered down drinks like the dance clubs in town.

  The door of the clubhouse opened behind her. A man stepped into the glow of the light above the door and looked both ways. Recognizing Skidd, she stayed in the shadows, content to have time to cool herself off and sober up for when Chief called.

  Her luck ran out.

  Skidd walked in her direction. "Everything okay?"

  "It's too hot in there. I was just cooling off from dancing," she said.

  Skidd hooked his hands in his vest pockets and looked around the property. She gazed out into the night, hoping he'd take her silence as a hint and go back inside.

  "Hell of a party." Skidd stepped forward and leaned against the side of the building beside her.

  Four years ago, she never understood the difference between a weekend party and one where the Brikken members let loose. Today, aware of a big shipment of stolen motorcycles making it to the destination and getting the rest of their payment, she understood the reason behind the rowdy celebration inside.

  Far enough removed from the business side of the club, she chose to enjoy the good vibe. What else was there to do?

  It was the life of being Brikken.

  "Damn, it was hot in there." Skidd stepped away from the wall and turned toward her, shoving his hand under the front of his shirt and lifting the material.

  His pale stomach flashed in the light. She looked away, wanting to roll her eyes. Skidd walked around the clubhouse showing his body whenever he wanted. At forty-something years old, he could go back inside to get attention. There were enough women hanging around at the parties, that were more than willing, to take him up on his offer. Especially after midnight.

  An arm came into view. She turned her gaze straight ahead and found Skidd trapping her to the side of the building.

  "What are you doing?" She shoved at his chest, unable to move him. "Back off."

  "Helping you cool off." He blew over her face. "Doesn't that feel good?"

  "I'm serious." She pushed him harder. "Get away from me."

  He grabbed her wrists and pressed his lower body against her. She stilled, panic rolling through her. Nobody touched her. Especially a Brikken member. Chief would kill anyone who tried.

  "When's the last time you've had cock?" He lowe
red his mouth to her ear. "Got a hard one for Chief's bitch, right here, ready to pound you, and make you my bitch."

  Pushing with all her strength, she screamed. He covered her mouth with his hand, grinding his erection against her. Her vision wavered, and her lungs seized without air. Desperate, she pulled her free arm out from between their bodies and clawed out, raking her nails down his face.

  He roared in pain, snapping his head away from her. Using her hands and feet, she fought until he put his hand around her throat.

  She stopped moving instantly.

  Skidd sneered down into her face. "You've been asking for a good fuck, flaunting your ass around here."

  "Please, don't do this. Let me go," she said, her throat spasming.

  His gaze lowered to her breasts, heaving with each frantic breath. He reached up. She squeezed her eyes closed, knowing what he was going to do and hating him, hating his touch, hating the vulnerable position and not knowing what to do.

  Her body jerked forward. Her neck burned.

  Skidd stepped away from her dangling the silver tag necklace Chief gave her from his hand. "I wonder what Chief will say when he comes home, and you're not wearing his tag." His smile never reached his eyes. "Maybe he won't care when he finds out I've had my cock inside you. I've got four months to make sure I own everything Chief believes he had before he was sent to prison."

  "Give it back." She reached out, and he held the necklace out of her reach.

  "Poor Chief. Gone too long, he loses his woman and his club. He's going to have nothing," said Skidd.

  He slipped the necklace into his pocket and walked out to the line of motorcycles. Shaken to her core, she wrapped her arms around her waist and bent over, gagging.

  Fear of what Chief would do if he heard about one of his men going against the rules of the club and touching her, threatening her, would make him lose his mind. That would be the worst thing to happen so close to his release from prison.

  He normally was the most controlled man she'd ever known or seen within Brikken and toward her, but she also knew deep down that if he felt she or his boys were treated badly, he'd go after anyone without a thought to his safety or future.